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Nature's Plan
by
Patricia Wellingham-Jones


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Midstride I halt,
back-pedal my feet.
Unable to resist
I walk to the split-rail fence.
 
On the feathery green
of a flower-bordered yard
a small corral of wire
holds a scramble of puppies:
eleven, six weeks old, each
a different pattern in black and white.
 
Chubby Springer spaniel bodies
bounce, tumble over each other,
emit shrill complaints,
cry for their mother.
 
From the house, their human
arrives, opens a gate
for her active young ones.
 
Half the babies stream
toward their next snack.
The rest explore the yard,
poke noses under rocks,
into roses, at the cup of my hand.
 
I now understand
nature’s grand plan
in making babies beautiful.
 
I, who never yearned for a pup,
want to gather up an armful,
carry them home.
 
This poem first appeared in the San Gabriel Valley Poetry Quarterly (#22, 2004).
Used here with the author’s permission.

 

 

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Patricia Wellingham-Jones is a former psychology researcher and writer/editor with an interest in healing writing, and the benefits of writing and reading work together. Widely published in poetry and nonfiction, she writes for the review department of Recovering the Self: A Journal of Hope and Healing and has published ten chapbooks of poetry. Patricia lives in Los Molinos, California.

 

 


Post New Comment:
Wilda Morris:
I, too, love the expression, "a scramble of pups." And what a wonderful ending.
Posted 02/21/2014 09:19 AM
Donna Pflueger:
"...a scramble of puppies... Wonderful image and phrase! You captured it! Enjoyed your poem...an early morning smile. Thank you, Patricia.
Posted 02/20/2014 07:47 AM


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